The Ninth Circle
by Draco's Daughter
Summary: Movieverse. What starts as a normal day at the office ends up turning into a trial by fire for Hellboy. In a race against his very training and ideals, Hellboy must come to grips with the mythical realm or be destoryed by his very Kin.
1. Everyone Lives but Us

**The Ninth Circle **

**by**

**Draco's Daughter**

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hellboy. Wish I did, but I don't. Grr. All original characters belong to me and me alone. Ahahaha!

AN: I was inspired to write this when I was looking up Hellboy on Wikipedia. The entry had a summary of the comic time line and it seemed like every other issue dealt with Werewolves. I began work on this as a werewolf story but, instead, turned it into something a bit more magical by mixing in some Greek myth as well as some interesting ideas of mine own. This is set in the universe of the movie because I've never read the comics.

* * *

"The deepest circle of hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers."- Capt. Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the Caribbean

_If I had words grating and crude enough_

_that really could describe this horrid hole_

_supporting the converging weight of Hell,_

_I could squeeze out the juice of my memories_

_to the last drop. But I don't have these words,_

_and so I am reluctant to begin._

_To talk about the bottom of the universe_

_the way it truly is, is no child's play,_

_no tasks for tongues that gurgle baby-talk._

- Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy _Volume One: Inferno_

Translated by Mark Musa

* * *

Chapter One: Everyone Lives But Us

Shots rang out in the quiet of the sewer systems. A large form covered in white fur came barreling down the sewer tunnel, panting hard from its wolf-like muzzle. Not far behind it ran another form, this one much more man-like. He could have passed as a human, if it wasn't for the red skin, shaved-down horns, and tail. Indeed, Hellboy was again on the hunt.

"Werewolves," the Demon muttered, "why does it _always_ have to be werewolves?" The werewolf he had been chasing for the past few hours had been spotted by humans on several occasions and had been deemed a threat by the B.P.R.D. So, naturally, they sent Hellboy to deal with it. The werewolf had been easy to find, in the company of another werewolf and several pups. The other Were and the pups had been able to elude Hellboy and the other agents but this one was now cornered, Hellboy knew for a fact that this tunnel was dead-end; the group had been armed with schematics of the sewer system before the mission had started. They had hoped to round them all up here and then head in for the kill when they were sure than none could escape. It would be very wise to attempt to find and destroy the younger ones so that they wouldn't become threats later on. The werewolf that Hellboy had been following was exhausted, taking in great breaths as it faced the demon. It nearly looked human now that he could see it up close. Taking careful aim with the Samaritan, Hellboy fired a shot straight into the creature's brain.

"Sorry, White Fang, but that's what ya get when you mess around with humans," Hellboy stated before placing the Samaritan back in its holster, turning, and walking away from the body. When he reached the crossroads, another was waiting for him. This werewolf was much bigger than the white one and its fur mimicked that of a Grey Wolf's.

"Crap." Was all Hellboy could manage before the beast leapt at him. They wrestled for a few moments, the werewolf skillfully wigging out of Hellboy's grasp whenever the demon attempted to strangle it or break its neck. The creature was incredibly intelligent, as if it had been in many other fights exactly like this one. It boiled down to an epic "clash of the titans" in which Hellboy was thrown five feet away from the Werewolf so the beast could attempt to get at the demon's throat. This gave Hellboy the room he needed to pull out the Samaritan and aim it. Hellboy attempted to get a clear shot but the Werewolf was smart. It knew what would happen if it was shot and, as soon as it saw the gun, the beast turned tail and ran on all fours. Hellboy again gave chase and managed to get a shot at it. The bullet landed in the creature's right thigh, pulling a high-pitched squeal from its mouth. The creature, however, did not stop running; it merely limped as quickly as it could down the tunnel. Hellboy stopped running to catch his breath, knowing that the werewolf would leave a visible trail of blood as well as eventually tire or drop dead from the blood loss.

"Hellboy?" Came the voice of John Myers from the communicator.

"What, boy scout?" Was the Demon's form of a greeting.

"We heard gun fire. Is the Werewolf dead?" Myers asked.

"Yeah, its down and out but another one jumped me. I was chasing it before I managed to get a shot in. It won't be too hard to find. What about that other one and the pups?"

"We can't find a trace of them. They're probably long gone by now."

"I'm gonna go take care of Jumper then I'll meet back up with you guys at the manhole."

"Okay. Be careful." The demon scoffed as he again set off to find the injured Werewolf.

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The werewolf stumbled down the tunnel, satisfied that he had put enough distance between himself and the demon. With a painful howl he began the transformation back into a human man. This human man was known as Ralph to both normal humans and his werewolf pack. The pack was made up of blood and "bite" related werewolves who lived together and worked as a communal and familial group. They used the sewers as a "play pen" for the younger blood-wolves because humans did not regularly travel into them. Several of the teenaged generation of the pack had thought it funny to go out and scare some of the local humans and that was what had brought down Hellboy on their community.

Ralph looked down at his thigh, in which the bullet was firmly lodged. With a grimace he began to strain his leg muscles and the bullet began to work itself out. The feeling was probably close to giving birth, and every werewolf agreed that it hurt like hell, but doing so made sure that Ralph's leg would heal properly, as well as allowing him to escape the sewers with his life. As soon as the bullet was out of his flesh, Ralph began to stagger away from the site, leg fully healed back so he would not leave a bloody trail for Hellboy to follow. When he reached a secret panel of wall, Ralph pressed a certain brick, opening the wall and allowing him some time to rest. The werewolves had installed "hidey-holes" in order to keep from being discovered if humans came into the area. Ralph slumped down as the wall closed behind him and fell into a fitful slumber to recover strength and allow his body to heal before heading back to the den.

In his sleep Ralph kept repeating the phrase: "Hellboy lives, Abraham lives, Everyone lives but us."

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The blood trail staggered around the tunnel, as if the werewolf had crashed into the walls in its pain-induced rush to get away from Hellboy. The demon followed the blood trail, the Samaritan drawn and ready to be fired if the creature came from the shadows and leapt at Hellboy.

"How much blood can one werewolf have?" Hellboy mused. The trail finally stopped where a small amount of blood pooled around the silver bullet Hellboy had fired at the creature. The demon picked up the bullet, examining it. "You'd think if it had dug this thing out they're be patches of fur and a lot more blood." Hellboy looked around for another sign as to where the creature had gone. After a few moments, he decided that this werewolf just wasn't worth it.

"Yo, boyscout," Hellboy said into the communicator.

"Yeah?" John replied.

"Jumper's pulled out my parting gift and he's split. I say we pack up and call it a day. Make sure to bag that other werewolf body. Don't want anyone seein anything. Clean up's gonna have a hell of a time with this one. Jumper's left a big mess," Hellboy said.

"We're not going to pursue the second one?" John inquired.

"Nah. Jumper's earned a few more days. We'll find him eventually. How many Werewolves can there be around New York?" Hellboy stated. "He'll turn up eventually. Weres are the revenge-takin type. Finding someone who attempted to kill them is like a goal in their lives."

"Alright, come on back, we'll pack up and head out," John replied. Hellboy began trudging back to the manhole they had all come down from. He stopped to take a last look at the White one and noticed a woman crouching next to the body.

"Hey? Who're you?" Hellboy asked. The woman was dressed in leather pants and a leather top. Her hair was short and choppy, colored bright crimson red with streaks of purple and yellow.

"Not the kind of soul you should worry about, young one," the woman replied, stroking the white fur as if admiring it. "Such a waste, such a terrible waste. She was so beautiful."

"Lady, I don't think you understand. No one besides B.P.R.D. personnel are supposed to be down here. Take your hands off the Werewolf carcass and get out of here," Hellboy ordered, the woman finally looked up at him.

"Hm. You appear to not be schooled in manners of your Kyn. If you had been you would know who and what I am and leave me be. It is apparent that you do not know what you have slain," the woman stated, standing and placing her hands on her hips.

"I know what I killed. It's a werewolf, an animal, nothing more," Hellboy said, defiant as ever. The woman shook her head.

"You call her an animal, I would think that, because you are of our Kyn, that you would have a little more respect; but my thoughts prove wrong. Learn from this lesson, you will need it to face the coming storm," the woman said. In the blink of an eye she was gone, leaving no trace of her presence.

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An old griffin paced along one of the smaller stones in the center of Stonehenge. In three hundred years the monsters had had no reason to assemble at their ancient meeting place. What had once been a powerful group of ninety-nine different representatives had dwindled down over the years as humans caused extinctions of mythical monsters, sometimes the extinctions were unintentional, sometimes they were direct. All of them were tragic. The griffin remembered the day the last of the dragons was slain by St. George. If humans kept polluting the waters then the Sea Serpents, Ichyo Centaurs, sirens, and other sea monsters would soon be gone as well. The council could always tell when a particular mythical race was dead: a stone in the ring completely disappeared. As the leonine beast paced along the stone, an elf watched from one of the standing stones.

"Boreas, the meeting isn't for another forty-eight hours. Shouldn't you be in hiding?" the elf asked, coming closer.

"I needed to think. Depending on how we rule on the matter we'll likely have to reveal ourselves. Haven't you noticed how humans keep coming closer and closer to finding us?" The griffin asked, stopping his pacing.

"Aye, its bad enough that our ancestral homes and ranges have been destroyed or are denied us but with this demon, Hellboy, killing us off one by one under the guise of a protector of humankind its even worse," the elf replied, a somber expression crossing over his face.

"Look at us, Hayen, being so negative before the meeting even begins. How is your wife?" Boreas asked. Hayen smiled warmly as his thoughts shifted from the darkness encroaching upon their world to the small ray of light that made everything worth the effort.

"She's not due for another week or so. I hated to leave her but she 'forced' me to come, Razel is like that when she thinks I need time away," Hayen replied.

"First full-blood in a while, am I correct?" Boreas inquired, Hayen nodded. "Sometimes, that's all that's needed, a little purity, to make the corruption around us cease." As the two talked a third figure came striding up. It was a man dressed in the light traveling garb of a werewolf from one of the ancient packs that stretched way back into antiquity. His color was purple and a steel sword in its scabbard was slung over his shoulder.

"Ninety-nine bottles of elf wine on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of elf wine! Ya take one down and pass it around, ninety-eight bottles of elf wine on the wall!" The man sang in a loud voice. He held a bottle of elf wine in each hand.

"Swiftbolt, hush you," Hayen chided. The werewolf smiled hugely, handing one of the bottles to the elf.  
"Why? That's no fun. Let the humans hear. We three can take them, easy," Swiftbolt replied, smiling hugely, obviously he had been drinking. Hayen shook his head before opening his bottle and taking a long drink.

"Actually you mean I could take them easily. You're plastered drunk, Swiftbolt, and the elf soon will be leaving only me to fight them off for you two," Boreas replied, leaping off the stone slab and onto the grass in front of the two. "Come then, if you two are to drink, drink in the company of others also doing so." Hayen and Swiftbolt turned and started walking away. Swiftbolt was slurring something about how he loved elves for their wine-making skills and Hayen in particular. Boreas shook his head as he too began to walk off.

"Boreas," a gentle voice called. The griffin's lion-ears perked up and swiveled behind him before he turned to face a woman perched on the same stone slab he had been pacing on.

"Lady Alecto. How do you fare on this grand night?" Boreas asked. He respectfully dipped his head in a sort of bobbing bow.

"Boreas, you do not have to prove unto me that you are an eloquent speaker, it is as plain as the mane you bear. I have come to ask of you something very important concerning the upcoming council," Alecto replied.

"Anything that I, as weak and frail as I am, can do for you, milady, all you needs must do is ask it of me," Boreas said.

"I need you to make a proposal about the punishment of the one called Hellboy, who, I assume, is the main concern of your meeting," Alecto stated.

"What is this proposal?" Boreas inquired, eyes narrowing. Alecto let out a laugh at the griffin's suspicious nature.

"All you must do for me, for my sisters, is to request that we be allowed to show Hellboy the err of his ways and we will need much help from the council members, and the individual races they represent. Please, Boreas, it will turn out well. Put your faith in me," Alecto replied, nearly pleading with the wizened old griffin. It was Boreas's job to be wary. He was a senior member of the council with nearly a thousand years of service to his name. Boreas was well respected and whatever he had to say was taken into careful consideration. It was for this reason that Alecto had elected to go to him instead of one of the main heads.

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"I know what I saw," Hellboy stated through clenched teeth. With the mission mostly accomplished, Dr. Manning had once again required a thorough debriefing. Hellboy had brought up the mysterious woman and, as always, Manning was skeptical about what the demon really saw.

"Yes, but you have no proof there was anyone in that tunnel besides you and the werewolf carcass," Manning retorted, smug at finally having secured a victory for himself. Hellboy fumed for a minute before deciding that this was one battle that he didn't need to win. The red demon moved on into the library where Abe swam around in his tank, waiting around for Hellboy to tell him how the mission went. Abe didn't need to read the demon's thoughts as Hellboy stalked into the library.

"Manning up to his old tricks again?" The Ichyo Sapiens asked. Hellboy grunted in reply. "What was it about this time?"

"I was heading back for the manhole when I saw a woman messing with the body of the werewolf I killed. She disappeared without a trace right in front of my face. Manning, being the idiot he is, doesn't believe me," Hellboy replied.

"Would you like me to take a look?" Abe inquired.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt, but it probably won't change Manning's mind," Hellboy said. Abe, however, had already begun to delve into Hellboy's short term memory. He went past the debriefing, the truck ride back to the B.P.R.D., and the exiting of the sewers; but before he could reach the memory Hellboy was talking about, something blocked him.

_'You will get your chance to encounter one of us soon, Abraham Sapiens,'_ a distinctly feminine voice said.

"So, whatcha find?" Hellboy asked, looking at the confusion on Abe's face.

"A mental block. Whatever you saw doesn't want to be discovered, that I can say. I can also say what whatever that woman was, she was not human. No human could or would have that kind of power, especially over long distances," Abe commented. "Very curious. I have the sinking feeling that this was only the first encounter."

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A/N: This is my first Hellboy Fanfic. Constrictive criticism is much appreciated, thanks!


	2. The Thorn of the Rose

**The Ninth Circle**

**By**

**Draco's Daughter**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hellboy. All I own are the original characters.

Swiftbolt: Give us a kiss!

Cuz I want to be a lil different in this story. I'm putting my reviewer love up front:

Epalladino: Meep. OhmyRa, OhmyRa…. One of the major Hellboy fan authors reviewed me…. (faints, revived by Swiftbolt and a bucket of water) All hero-worship aside, thanks for pointing that out. Accursed Latin, it insists on confusing me every time.

Wisdomjewel: Danka, Han-ya, I'll try and keep you happy.

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Chapter Two: The Thorn of the Rose

Ralph stumbled down the alley. He had slept all through the day and his wounds were completely healed. Even so, the psychological burden of the previous night's events took a heavy toll on his body, making it difficult to walk straight. All Ralph wanted to do was sink down against a wall and sleep but he knew it wasn't safe to do that, not here at least. Ralph went on for a few more steps before falling face-first. He just couldn't take any more. A figure crouched down over him.

"What has the world done to you, Ralph?" a woman's voice asked. Ralph looked up into the sympathetic eyes of a very familiar woman. The black cloth skirt and top accented her form nicely while a black leather coat tied her in with her leather-clad sisters. Her hair was long and colored crimson with streaks of purple and yellow.

"Lady Trisiphone. I apologize for my disheveled," Ralph began, getting up. Trisiphone placed a slender finger on his lips.

"Hellboy has done you a great wrong and I sorrow greatly for your loss, but we need you in this world still. Go back to your Pack and your children. They need you right now and we need you later," Trisiphone replied. She formed a small orb of strength in her fingers and pressed it into Ralph's forehead. It wasn't much, but it would see him back to the den in one piece. After that, she disappeared without a sound. Ralph stood, legs strengthened for the time being and strode on to the den.

A werewolf den is always a hive of activity. The dens could be located in natural caves, in forests, or, in this case, abandoned apartment buildings. The New York pack was lead by an old, experienced male by the name of Sampson. Sampson had immigrated to the United States in 1890 with his mate and several of their old pack-mates. They came to escape a string of werewolf hunts in Germany that were going on at that time. Many of the old pack had been slain in those hunts. Sampson quickly established the pack in New York shantytowns and offered lycanthropy other European immigrants. Many agreed and the pack began to return to its original strength of over a hundred werewolves. Over time members of the pack left to form packs in the west, away from the dangers of the city. Sampson was not pained to see them go, as urbanization occurred, it became harder and harder to find food and enough room for a large pack, this eventually lead to the purchase and matenance of a bar to fund the ever-growing pack. Sampson's face showed his age with many scars and laugh lines. His hair, once brown, had turned silvery grey and so had his werewolf coat. He was around two hundred and eleven years old. As the elder of the pack, he had final say in everything. At the moment, he was grieving. News of the death of Alyssa, Ralph's mate and Sampson's daughter, had reached his ears thanks to Naomi, the other female that had been watching the pups on that fateful night.

Sampson looked up as Ralph entered. The elder werewolf went to embrace his son-in-law. Ralph did not have the strength to return the embrace.

"My son, I sorrow greatly for this loss. Alyssa meant very much to the both of us," Sampson whispered. Ralph could not hold his emotions back any more, the young werewolf's tears fell onto Sampson's shirt.

"She sacrificed herself so the pups could live," Ralph replied. He had been down in the sewers acting as a guard, patrolling to prevent any humans from finding them. When he saw Hellboy chasing Alyssa, he speed after the demon but not after seeing Naomi and the five pups, all between three and five years old, were safe. Those pups included Ralph and Alyssa's daughter. When he heard the gun shots, his heart had broken and the human side of him went dormant, during his battle, he was running totally on his wolfish side and planned to kill Hellboy. But when Hellboy pointed the gun at him, his humanity returned and he knew that he needed to continue living so that the loss of Alyssa would be remembered, and avenged.

"Go, my grandchildren need their father," Sampson said. Ralph nodded and went over to the sunken communal pillow pit, where many of the pack lounged, and scooped up his sleeping daughter. Naomi reclined a few inches away, running her fingers through her son's hair.

"Ralph, I'm sorry about Alyssa," Naomi stated, looking at Ralph with tears in her eyes. Ralph nodded and carried his daughter to their rooms. A werewolf's room is always sparse. Usually there is a bed, a chest of drawers, and maybe a chair or two. Ralph sat his daughter down on the bed, where she shifted into a comfortable sleeping position, before checking on his one year old son. The young werewolf was fast asleep; having been carefully seen to by one of the many baby-sitters of the pack while Ralph took his moments of healing. Ralph then returned to his daughter, where he lay down next to her. She shifted and opened her clear blue eyes.

"When is mama coming home?" She asked, laying her head on Ralph's chest.

"Mama's not coming home, my youngling," Ralph replied, stroking his daughter's white hair. The four year old buried her face in her father's shirt and cried. Several of the older werewolves had explained things to her the best they could about her mother but hearing from her father made it all too real.

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_Stonehenge_

The Monster council had assembled. The main elders were a Manticore, a Unicorn, and a Phoenix. The Manticore had taken over the position when the dragons had been hunted into extinction. Many on the council felt Boreas had been cheated because the Tribunal was made up of the oldest surviving monster races. Angels and Demons, despite being the eldest of all races, were not included because they were around before the Earth was created.

"We all have assembled here thanks to one half-demon: Hellboy. Hellboy has been doing away with many of our own kin over for about the past fifty years. This cannot continue otherwise we may find several other stones in this ring gone," the unicorn stated. He claimed the oldest race and thus was the speaker for the council. Swiftbolt nodded at his words and stood.

"Many of my people now lie dead thanks to Hellboy. To date, the houses of Trin and Jethis have fallen thanks to Hellboy. The house of Fernir is also very close to falling. My own house, the house of Garthon, has also lost many members in Hellboy's campaign," Swiftbolt said. Shocked expressions and murmurs ran through the assembled monsters. "If he continues in this way, we will be extinct in fifty or so years."

"How do we stop him, then? He is a half-demon and extremely strong for such a creature. He also seems to know much about our individual races," a neko asked.

"We do not stop him," Boreas said. He spoke in barely a whisper but all there caught it. The aged griffin stood and looked around at the council.

"Then you condemn us to death, Boreas," the Manticore stated boldly. Boreas shook his maned head.

"I said that _we _won't stop him. The Furies will," Boreas replied. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, the three sisters known as the Furies appeared. Since the dawn of time had the Furies existed and until the end of time they would. Trisiphone, Megera, and Alecto were the judges of all things supernatural and could not be bribed nor swayed. Trisiphone was the leader, tall and regal, she had the final say. Alecto was the prosecutor, providing evidence against one's crimes. Megera was the defense, providing the good in the life of the accused. All the representatives present bowed low to the three divine judges.

"Long have we watched this Hellboy. Ever since he appeared in the mortal realm were we charged with keeping our eyes upon him. Early in his life he began hunting the very monsters that he shared blood with. Hecate has not forgotten her grievances at her meeting with him," Trisiphone stated. Many of the monsters cringed at the mention of Hecate's name. As goddess of magic, many had been enlisted in her service over the years. Many had done very horrible things in her name, invoked by her followers and favored servants.

"What do you suggest we do, my lady?" The unicorn asked, pawing the ground nervously.

"He must be tested. He will fight for a beloved comrade that we will kidnap. We ask you, the Council and Mythical Races of the World, to aid us in doing this. Volunteers are needed for this undertaking. Our main concern is finding a suitable prison for our hostage," Trisiphone replied.

"And I think I know exactly who we can go to," Swiftbolt said, cupping his chin and smiling knowingly.

---------------

Doctor Oliver Styles was quite used to monstrosities. He was part of the clean-up crew that dealt with the corpses of the creatures Hellboy and other B.P.R.D. agents killed. Part of his job was to give each corpse a proper autopsy before cremating it. Through these autopsies, the B.P.R.D. increased its knowledge of mythical races and how to better kill them. Currently, he was dealing with the corpse of the werewolf Hellboy had killed. It had reverted, like all werewolves did after death, to human form. Sometimes, Oliver forgot what he was dealing with.

"I thought you might be interested in what I've found," Oliver said to Hellboy, who stood across from the man, on the left of the body.

"Cut to the chase Oliver, I don't want to be in here longer than I have too," Hellboy replied. Oliver chuckled as he lifted up the female werewolf's left shoulder.

"Tell me what you see," Oliver instructed. Hellboy peered at the shoulder blade, where a tattoo was present.

"What's so special about a tattooed werewolf?" He asked.

"Well, the tattoo in itself isn't that important, at first sight. But, examining it closer, it looked more like a family crest than just your average tattoo," Oliver explained. Hellboy cocked an eyebrow.

"So she's got family, your point?"

"I did some research on that particular crest and found something that you may want to look at." Oliver crossed to a computer and tapped a key on the keyboard to remove the screen saver. Hellboy, curious as to what Oliver found, followed. Once the screensaver of 3D pipes was gone, a window containing an internet webpage titled "Werewolf Houses of the Old World" was on the screen. It read:

_Some say that Werewolves don't exist,_

_Some say I'm crazy, _

_But in researching the werewolf phenomenon, I discovered what are called _

"_Werewolf Houses."_

_These "Houses" are the descendants of ancient werewolves. Listed below are the Houses and their crests._

Hellboy's eyes flicked down the screen and came to rest at "House Odolf" the crest next to it was the same as the tattoo on the female werewolf's shoulder.

"Could you print this out for me?" Hellboy asked. Oliver shook his head and did so. Once the page printed, Hellboy took the papers from the printer and left with a nod to Oliver, who had returned to his work.

The red demon returned to the library where Abe was thick in "Research Mode." The Ichyo Sapien was up on a ladder, looking at various titles. Hellboy crossed to the ladder Abe was standing on.

"Catch," the aquatic agent instructed. Hellboy looked up in time to see a large, dusty tome plummet down towards him. The demon caught it in his stone right hand. Abe came down the ladder a moment later. "Thanks," he said as he took the book from Hellboy and went over to sit at Broom's old desk which was permanently piled with papers and books.

"What's this one?" Hellboy asked, tapping the book with a finger. He hadn't seen it before; actually, there were lots of books in the library he had never seen before.

"The Anthology of Faerie Encounters," Abe supplied, flipping the pages. Illustrations of various Fey and fey-like creatures stared out at the reader.

"Still looking for the woman?" was the demon's next question.

"I've narrowed it down to Archaic Fairy-Beings, Tuatha De Danann and the like, or some primitive goddess," Abe replied.

"Well switch gears for a moment, Brother Blue, and take a look at this," Hellboy said, placing the printed out pages he had been carrying on the book. Abe set the book down on the desk and picked up the papers, giving Hellboy a questioning glance. "Oliver found a tattoo on the werewolf. It's a crest belonging to a "Werewolf House." Apparently, there's more to this werewolf than meets the eye."

"Which house did she come from?" Abe asked, looking through the papers.

"Odolf," Hellboy supplied. Abe tapped his chin with a slender finger.

"I've heard that name somewhere else before," He stated. Quickly, Abe was back up and going through books. He shifted the ladder over to another section and climbed up, pulling an even thicker book off the shelf. Hellboy, sensing that this could take a while, stole Abe's seat. The sound of page flipping accompanied Abe as he returned, book in hand. Stopping at the correct page, he set it down in front of Hellboy. Hellboy leaned in to see a portrait of a man. The caption below read: Odolf, Founder of the German Werewolf packs. The House crest was branded on Odolf's skin and could clearly be seen in the portrait. Hellboy flipped a few pages to see similar portraits of other men, all founders of Werewolf packs in one country or another. There were seven in all.

"I think you've stumbled upon something a lot bigger than one werewolf in New York, red, a lot bigger," was all Abe could say.

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A/N: Little do they know what awaits them. Mwahahahahahaha. For some reason, this was a difficult chapter to write….

On the subject of werewolves, I want to explain something about mine. My werewolves (Swiftbolt, Ralph, and the others) don't change because of the full moon. The change from human to wolf can be caused by an increase of stress levels (i.e. anger or fear) or can be completely voluntary. They only have control over the transformation when they're calm, though. Likewise, the change back from wolf to human is caused when stress levels drop and the werewolf feels it is safe to do so.

Again, first Hellboy fanfic, constructive criticism please!


	3. Black and White

**The Ninth Circle**

**by **

**Draco's Daughter**

**Disclaimer: **Hellboy isn't mine. All original characters are. (pats Swiftbolt's head) Cassandra is under joint ownership by me and Wisdom-Jewel.

A/N: I'm sorry if you feel that there's not enough of the canon characters in this story thus far, but I have a lot to set up so it may seem that way for a while.

Ahhh, reviews, I lurve reviews:

Wisdom-Jewel: Nothing? Nothing? Nothing tra-la-la? cracks up (Labyrinth reference for all the uncultured dorks wondering what the heck I'm talking about)

epalldino: Nope, still haven't read the comics. n.n I don't know where I could get my hands on them (but I would like to read them someday). That's where Wikipedia and free time comes in handy.

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"_Unravel me, untie this chord, the very centre of our union, is caving in, I can't endure, I am the archive of our failure, and all I feel is black and white, and I'm wound up small and tight, and I don't know who I am, everybody loves you when you're easy, everybody hates when you're a bore, everyone is waiting for your entrance, so don't disappoint them."_- Sarah McLachlan, Black and White

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Chapter Three: Black and White

"Honey, I'm home!" Swiftbolt called playfully in the large entrance hall of a palatial mansion. Hayen walked slowly behind the confident werewolf.

"Swiftbolt, remind me why we're in the Realm of the Succubi of all gods-forsaken places?" The elf asked nervously, looking around at the ornate trappings that gave off a Middle-eastern flare that many of the Succubi loved.

"You'll see, Hayen, you'll see," Swiftbolt replied, a secretive smile on his lips. Deep in the bowels of the mansion, a Succubus looked up from the human man she was feeding off of. Her eyes, the blood red of a feeding Succubus, began to shift to their normal color as she twisted her head to hear Swiftbolt's call. Recognizing the voice, she stood from the Roman couch and picked up a shear robe from where she placed it on a chair.

"Where ya goin?" The man asked, weak and still unaware that she was a demon who was feeding off his life energy. The succubus put a finger to her lips and drove her spiked tail into his bare chest. With a gurgle the man died. She would finish her feeding later, after seeing what the werewolf wanted. Slipping on the robe, she headed for the entrance hall.

Hayen tapped his foot in impatience; he had never been a particularly patient elf, especially when waiting around for something to happen. Swiftbolt, on the other hand, was already making himself at home and had sat down on one of the numerous chairs around the room. The werewolf was looking around, taking the room in, and twiddling his thumbs while he waited. Hayen couldn't understand how he could be so patient, especially when more pressing matters were at hand.

"Swiftbolt, are you positive anyone's even here?" Hayen asked.

"I am here, I am always here. What reason have I to leave?" A woman's voice asked. Hayen turned to the sound to see a succubus standing in a doorway. The robe she wore was red and had been made out of a shear material that left nothing to the imagination. Her tail flicked, revealing curiosity and excitement to her visitors, blood from various victims had stained the spikes and skin at the tip red. Her black hair was straight, although a bit messy, and her eyes were their normal grey.

"Marvella!" Swiftbolt greeted, approaching the succubus and placing a kiss on her knuckles. "It's been too long."

"Well, well, I start my day off well with a good meal and this succulent delight awaits me at my front door. A god must be smiling upon me," Marvella said, placing a quick peck on Swiftbolt's cheek. "And who is this you bring with you, Swiftbolt?" She asked, spying Hayen.

"Sorry, Marvella, he's taken. Doesn't approve of all that adultery nonsense," Swiftbolt replied, putting his arm around her waist. Marvella made a face, obviously pouting.

"Poo, there goes my dreams for a good threesome. Well, come in, come in! Tell me why you're here if it isn't for my services?" Marvella instructed, pulling away from Swiftbolt and heading further into the mansion. Hayen came up to Swiftbolt, a questioning glance on his face.

"Threesome?" He asked. Swiftbolt smiled wide and steered the elf in the direction Marvella had gone. They entered into a dining hall, Hayen and Swiftbolt taking seats while Marvella retrieved three goblets and a bottle of unknown red liquid. She brought them over to the table and poured the liquid into the goblets, offering one to Hayen and the other to Swiftbolt. Hayen was relieved to find it wasn't blood and took a small sip to figure out what it was, he still couldn't decipher the contents of his goblet; it tasted good none the less. Swiftbolt lifted his goblet to Marvella before drinking deeply. Marvella quietly drank, her eyes shifting to red.

"I have to say, this is some of the best refined energy I've tasted, Marvella," Swiftbolt complimented. Hayen nearly spat what was in his mouth out, eyes wide. Marvella and Swiftbolt had a good laugh at his expense.

"There is none but the best available for the Queen of the Succubi," Marvella replied. "The energy is harvested from human convicts, Lord Hayen, none are harmed nor killed."

"Only because the humans would notice if convicts randomly began to drop dead, can't have that, can we?" Swiftbolt added with a chuckle. Marvella closed her eyes, savoring the taste before looking back at the werewolf.

"I suppose you came here for a reason besides having a drink and a chat?" Marvella asked, getting straight to the point. Swiftbolt finished the contents of his goblet before speaking.

"You know of the Hellboy case? Well, the council is officially looking into it seeing as it doesn't look like he'll go away on his own. The Furies came by, they suggested challenging him. In order to give him something to fight for, we're taking a hostage. A "reward," if you will, for completing his challenge correctly. We want you to keep an eye on this hostage," Swiftbolt explained.

"And what do I get for this?" Marvella asked. Swiftbolt gave a wolfish grin.

"Well, for starters, I'll attend you and we're promising ten good humans to be given to you over the next two weeks. You also get to do whatever you wish to the hostage, as long as it doesn't result in his death," Swiftbolt replied, a wolfish grin on his face.

"You roguish werewolf, you. I bet you sealed this deal with the council. When can I have _you_?" Marvella asked, an equally wolfish grin on her face.

"Right now if you want," Swiftbolt said, his expression settling into his usual "sexual predator" look. Hayen decided it was time for him to let them "negotiate." The pair was already up out of their seats, descending upon one another like hungry beasts.

Hayen awaited Swiftbolt's reappearance in the entrance hall. Fifteen minutes later, the werewolf returned, running a hand through his grey hair with a smirk on his face. Marvella hovered at the doorway, looking thoroughly satisfied with her first "payment."

"Ready to go?" Hayen asked. Swiftbolt nodded.

"Tell the Council I'll be back. I need to pay a visit to a girl about the future," Swiftbolt replied.

"Cassandra?"

"Yep, Cassandra."

-------------------

"We're in need of a research visit," was what Hellboy said to Manning. It had taken a while for the Red demon to convince the man that it was necessary and wise to make such a visit but, the talents and available material of the B.P.R.D. only went so far. When that limit was reached, Hellboy or Abe called in what were known as "research visits." These visits were made to various types of people: priests, mediums, police, and, in this case, shopkeepers and fortunetellers. Seldom did Hellboy get to journey out on these visits now that Manning was in charge, but this one was special. The girl who owned the shop didn't know any of the other agents, and she refused flat out to answer to them, not even Manning could press answers out of her. So, Hellboy pretty much had to go in order to get the information. As the B.P.R.D. trucks pulled up to the small, run-down shop, Hellboy felt a shudder of excitement. It was the same shudder he felt the first time he laid eyes on the place. The first time he had been with Professor Broom, they were working on a case that involved a pretty nasty being that defied classification, until they came here.

The small, fading sign read: _Authentic Gypsy Fortunetelling! Cassandra knows all the secrets!"_ Cassandra's mother was a Gypsy from Greece. Her father, on the other hand, was unknown. It took a moment before the agents secured the premises and Hellboy was allowed out of the B.P.R.D. truck and into the shop. A bell tinkled inside as Hellboy pushed the door opened. The scent of incense was heavy in the air.

"_Get down!"_ He heard Cassandra hiss from the back room. The girl then appeared from behind a beaded curtain, obviously expecting some mundane customer. "Hello and well— HELLBOY!" A blur of fabric from her skirt and the twenty-six year old was enveloping the big, red demon in a hug.

"Who's here?" Hellboy asked.

"No one," Cassandra said, her voice and expression guarded.

"Then who or what were you talking to a minute ago?" Hellboy asked, trying to look into the back room.

"Hellboy, you'd better get your hearing checked, I told you that listening to all those weapon discharges was going to send your hearing down the drain," Cassandra stated playfully, leading the demon into the back room. Hellboy did a quick scan, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Cassandra sat at a small table laden with a large, crystal ball and a deck of tarot cards. Hellboy took a seat on the guest's pouf while Cassandra settled into her wing-back chair. Hellboy thought he felt something slightly shake the table from underneath. The demon attempted to reach his tail to feel for something. With the short reach, he didn't catch anything.

"You gonna need payment?" Hellboy asked casually.

"Depends on the information you want, Hellboy. If I have to spend more than a week searching, you're paying," Cassandra replied playfully. "What do you need?"

"We're looking for more information about _this,"_ He said, handing a piece of paper over to Cassandra. The Gypsy took it and unfolded it, reading. Her expression was guarded as she finished.

"You're seeking information about the Werewolf houses. Two are dead, several are failing. They serve as something of family tree for Werewolves, who rarely record their history on paper or stone like humans. Werewolves sometimes do not know their parents, be it from war or sickness or just the father or mother's ways. Lone Werewolves do exist and do sometimes fall in love and have pups with a pack wolf before their wandering ways urge them to go off again, leaving lover and pups behind. But, no matter what, they always know to which house they belong and to which "breed" of Werewolf they are," Cassandra explained in a quiet voice.

"There are breeds of Werewolf?" Hellboy asked.

"Yes, based mainly on where they come from. Lycans are those descended from the Greek Werewolf king Lycan. Loup-garoux and Lubins from France. Wargwulfs from Scandinavia and Russia. SkinWalkers from the Americas. Each has their own rules as well as specific physical and personality traits. You really should take more time to learn about the creatures you hunt, Hellboy. You may find that they're much like you," Cassandra said. She went over to a bookshelf and took a small, worn book off of it. She handed it to Hellboy. "Make sure Abe gets a hold of that. I want it back after you've made whatever copies and notes you need. It's very special." Hellboy took the book in his left hand. The title was written in Anglo-Saxon runes, something Hellboy had very little knowledge of. He tucked it away in his duster.

"Thanks, Cassie, I'll make sure this gets back to you soon," He said before exiting the shop. Cassandra let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"I can smell the smoke, you know. Come out," She said. Slinking out from under the table, Swiftbolt appeared with a lit Marijuana-filled cigarette in his mouth. He took a long drag on it before taking it out, exhaling smoke through his nose.

"You neglected to tell me that Hellboy was coming for a chat," Swiftbolt said, angry but mellowing out thanks to the marijuana.

"I didn't know he was coming! It was as much a surprise to me as it was to you," Cassandra hissed. The werewolf gave a villainous half-smirk before taking another drag on his beloved calming drug.

"At least you remember plenty of what I taught you about your werewolf side, daughter," Swiftbolt commented, bringing an angered blush to Cassandra's face. She would never admit openly that Swiftbolt was her father. The werewolf half-sat, half-leaned on the edge of the table, exhaling smoke again as he collected his thoughts. Cassandra busied herself with getting a few more incense burners going to ward off Swiftbolt's own personal form of "incense."

"We wouldn't have that problem if you had stayed anonymous," Cassandra retorted over her shoulder. Swiftbolt laughed.

"Of all the pups I've fathered, you're the most promising. You're one of the lucky ones that became dominant human instead of dominant werewolf," Swiftbolt stated.

"Is that why you insist on hanging around? Because I'm a human?" Cassandra asked. Swiftbolt nodded before putting the joint out on his bracer.

"You need all the fatherly protection I can offer, sweetheart. Some mythic hunters look for live curiosities, especially when they want bait for trapping a famous werewolf like moi," Swiftbolt explained. "But, enough about that, I have the urge to chase a garbage truck like the good doggie I am." With a quick motion, he was out the back door and up on the roof.

"I hope it hits you!" Cassandra called to her father's retreating form.

"Love you too, sweetheart!" He called back, infuriating Cassandra further.

Swiftbolt was half-shifted into his werewolf form. He still looked human in skin and face but his limbs were much longer and more powerful. The higher werewolf metabolism worked the effects of the Marijuana out of his system much faster than that of a human. He followed the B.P.R.D. trucks by leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Several jumps were miscalculated and earned him a few climbs up brick walls.

'_Yep, limbs is gonna feel that in the mornin',_' He thought to himself as he climbed, all the while trying to keep the B.P.R.D. trucks in sight. '_There had better be something good coming my way for this. Preferably something relieving and illegal.'_

Once the trucks arrived at the B.P.R.D. head quarters, Swiftbolt stopped on the nearest building before fishing through his large belt pouch and pulling out a spyglass to get a closer look, watching what he could.

After several minutes, he felt a buzzing at his hip. He pulled a glowing and shaking crystal out of his pouch and threw it into the air. It "stuck" and projected a screen through which Swiftbolt saw and heard the council.

"Lord Swiftbolt, report," Trisiphone commanded.

"Hellboy is currently at the B.P.R.D. Headquarters. He was speaking with Cassandra of Werewolf Houses a short time ago. I see if I can initiate the plan we discussed earlier to lure him and Abraham Sapien back into the sewers," Swiftbolt replied.

"Proceed with the blessing to the council, Swiftbolt," Trisiphone said. Swiftbolt bowed as the crystal deactivated, falling gracefully into his out stretched hand. Swiftbolt returned to the spyglass, watching as a group of agents were heading out for various places. One in particular caught Swiftbolt's attention. The werewolf watched him go into a small coffee shop, alone. He collapsed the spyglass and stuffed it back into his belt pouch before leaping down into an alleyway between the building he had been sitting on and its neighbor. Quickly, he started shedding his armor and clothing befitting a werewolf. From his belt pouch he pulled a pair of faded jeans and a black sleeveless t-shirt. He stepped into the jeans and fastened them and pulled the t-shirt over his head. He then pulled a pair of flip-flops from his large belt pouch and slid his feet into them. The werewolf bundled up his things and hid them between a dumpster and the wall. Silently, he stepped out of the alleyway to follow the agent into the coffee shop.

-------

Abe was taking a much needed break from the research over Werewolf houses and the mysterious power that prevented him from accessing Hellboy's memory of the woman whom the half-demon had seen in the sewers. Drifting somewhere in-between sleep and awake, he floated upside down in his tank blinking away sleep. Suddenly, he felt something brush up against him. Abe opened his eyes and he was staring into the face of a beautiful woman floating next to him. His mind was telling him to alert someone, if they hadn't of been alerted already, but something about her disabled all functions of his mind.

"Abe, come to me," She whispered, pulling him close. Her long hair wrapped around them. "I want you, Abe. Defy your masters, they are foolish." It was then he noticed she was completely naked.

"Hey, Brother Blue!" Hellboy called. Abe's eyes snapped open, the woman was gone. Had he been dreaming? "Got something for you to research compliments of Cassandra." The red demon strode right up to the glass, holding up the small leather-bound book Cassandra had given him earlier. "You okay?"

Abe looked up at Hellboy, "No, I'm not." He took a moment before swimming up to the top of his tank and exiting. "What did Cassandra have to say?" He took the small book from Hellboy's hand, flipping through it.

"Cassie told me about how the Werewolves use their Houses as a family tree. Very selective with her information, ya know?" The demon replied.

"I'm wondering what the "Bok of Werwolf" is doing in her possession. Everything I've ever heard about this book is that only Werewolves can get their hands on it, and only then if they're high-ranking," Abe stated, sitting down and quickly translating the runes. Pulling a sheet of paper over to him to write down the translations, he immediately got back to research, the woman forgotten for the moment.

In a dark corner, Marvella stood watching the pair, a scowl over her face. She did not take kindly to being interrupted.

---------

A/N: This chappie was a fun one! If long in the making. Reviews plz?


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